yasinovel Chapter 953: Pyrrhic victory or utter defeat?
Chapter 953: Pyrrhic victory or utter defeat?
Chapter 953: Pyrrhic victory or utter defeat?
Erik watched as the blackguards began their retreat. The rebel forces had inflicted heavy casualties to Volkov's army, and the remaining blackguards knew they were outmatched.
They were strong, but not to the point they could avoid laser bolts, bombs and brain crystal powers.
As the order came through their communication devices, Shatterfist let out a frustrated growl, but he knew better than to disobey.
If the command center decided to make them retreat, despite how humiliating that was, there was a good reason for it.
"Fall back! Regroup at the rendezvous point!"
Erik fell in step with his team, keeping his head down as they made their way through the devastated plaza.
While he was relieved to see Volkov's men and the blackguards retreat, he didn't like the overall situation at all.
The rebels luckily killed a lot of enemy soldiers, but their death toll was as high, especially considering the number of rebels was much lower than that of Volkov's army's and the blackguards'.
While they retreated, the soldiers all had ashen faces. Their morale had been clearly shaken, and their pride shattered. That wasn't only true for the blackguards, but even for Volkov's army.
This was an ambush, and yet, the rebels had been able to play a reverse card on them, making a counter ambush.
Even they had to admit that the rebels' move had been astute.
Erik spared a glance back. He and the others reached the edge of the plaza by now, and were almost on a side street that would lead the troops outside of the ambush site.
"Keep moving, Savage Blood!" Shatterfist said.
"Yes."
The rebels hadn't given up. They were chasing the enemy with relentless determination while killing them from behind.
In Erik's opinion, the best thing to do would have been to retreat. The blackguards weren't so simple. Even if they retreated, no one could say with certainty they had no trick up their sleeves.
Just as Erik feared the rebels might catch up, a thunderous explosion rocked the area. He whirled around to see a team of blackguards descending upon the battlefield, their leader at the forefront.
"Dark Tendril," Erik said, recognizing Zakir among the fighters. Of course, he was the first to engage.
The elite blackguards moved with predatory grace. It was to the point even Erik was impressed by their theatrical entrance.
Of course, they weren't just trying to impress the others, because their brain-crystal powers were making quick work of the rebel forces.
Erik had an explanation for himself. He had the biological supercomputer, who made him techniques that made it much easier to make neural links. But Zakir? The blackguards either had a better technique, compared to the average citizen, or the man was simply talented, and insane at that.
Zakir used his tendrils to carve a path through the enemy throng; his tendrils' strikes were lightning-fast and devastating, often ending up in missing limbs and rolling heads.
Erik watched as the rebels were cut down one by one, or more at a time.
The rebels didn't expect this. They didn't expect someone to single-handedly kill them in droves in a matter of moments.
Caught off guard by this new threat, they struggled to mount an effective defense.
"Move! Don't waste time anymore!" But Erik found himself frozen. That was a chance to kill Zakir and his team.
He thought about it. It took no longer than a fraction of a second, of course, but the conclusion he reached was simple.
The situation quickly turned. The blackguards, after a defeat that ended in retreat, were now
killing all the rebels.
At this point, though, Frant's regular army was in shambles. Only the blackguards were on
that battlefield.
Erik weaved through the melee, his blade flashing as he cut down one rebel after another.
Zakir's tendrils continued to wreak havoc, with the elite blackguard reveling in the destruction.
...
..
...
The echoes of battle faded, leaving a chilling silence in their wake. Erik sat atop a crumbling
wall overlooking the ravaged plaza.
Smoke still curled from smoldering craters, the stench of blood and burnt flesh in the air.
This battle had been a rollercoaster. First, the blackguards ambushed the rebels, or at least they thought that. Then the rebels ambushed the blackguards after having faked a retreat.
Then Zakir intervened and changed the battle's outcome.
If it wasn't for him, the rebels would have achieved a staggering victory. The rebels' trap had been brutally crushed by a man alone. The plaza was littered with the corpses of Volkov's soldiers, their uniforms stained crimson.
The battle, though, had been so brutal that even some blackguards had fallen. That was the
only silver lining.
The rebels, too, had suffered heavy losses. Most of them escaped after Zakir's stunt, but the price of their diversionary tactic had been steep.
Erik's eyes scanned the convoy, or what remained of it. Half the vehicles lay in ruins, their
cargo bays empty.
This battle had been a Pyrrhic victory at best, for the rebels at least.
In truth, even the blackguards should consider it this way. It was weird. Even Erik was having
trouble understanding if this was a victory or a loss, and for who.
In a sense, both organizations met their goal.
The rebels killed a lot of soldiers and diverted their attention here, while Amber, Mira, June,
and Emily took care of the enlistment center.
The blackguards, instead, had few casualties on their side and killed many rebels.
Only Volkov's army, or better, Frant's army, could be proclaimed a complete loser.
That was because Volkov's troops' casualties were high, and for sure, the kills they made couldn't be attributed to them.
The funny thing was that the blackguards and Volkov measured achievement based on the number of lives they claimed compared to those they lost.
Today, only the blackguards could say they balanced out death and kills. "Savage Blood," a gruff voice called out. Erik turned to see Shatterfist approaching, his mask hiding his expression, but Erik could sense the underlying satisfaction in his voice.
"It looks like our plan worked. The rebels are scattered, and they failed their attack." "Indeed," Erik tried to sound as neutral as possible, as if he wasn't affected by the rebels seemingly defeat at all.
While he masked himself behind stoicism, the man couldn't wait to call Van Dyke and June to find out what happened with the real attack, as for now, it looked like the blackguards didn't know it happened.